A Crown of Roses
by Suk-fong
Summary: A revolution is not a bed of roses (I never wanted to be king, but oh-oh can't you hear the people sing?) [Game of Thrones inspired Everlark, Odesta, Gale/Madge, others]
1. Prelude

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.

**dedication**: Liana and Sara for actually beta-ing this.  
><strong>notes<strong>: Here we have it, this monster that I have been writing for so long.

It's broken into four acts, and I hope you enjoy it.

Warning there is graphic violence, death, rape and other triggers, as I have taken my inspiration from Game of Thrones and history.

Updates are the 7th and the 21st of each month.

**title**: A Crown of Roses

**summary**: A revolution is not a bed of roses.

_(I never wanted to be king, but oh-oh can you hear the people sing?)_

**chapter:** 1/25 (prologue)

* * *

><p><p>

The fires of burnt corpses light the large hall and echo off the glint of steel. There is a moment of silence, out of place from the clash of battle and it resonates around the occupants of the room, louder than any scream that had been let out.

It is the end of a ten year war, with Lord Coriolanus Snow of the West and his blade through the King's neck.

Queen Mags's face is smudge with dirt, blood and sweat; her mouth open in a silent scream as she stares transfixed as Coriolanus, once a childhood playmate finishes the motion, roughly like he enjoys sawing through her husband's neck. Blood and skin splatter and get into Coriolanus's mouth, though he pays no matter to it.

The room watches as their king gets dethroned by his trusted friend, and Queen Mags-no longer queen now, now just Mags Odair widowed and from the Southern Islands, cannot do anything but watch.

Lord Woof, her husband's adviser is the one who pulls himself up from the ground, baring no mind his left leg is lame now, bleeding from one of Coriolanus's sword.

'Leave Beetee, Haymitch, Brutus.' There are no protests when the pages, boys really, no older than fourteen, pale faced and bathed red leave, running like children.

Their footfalls echo around the great hall, and bring Mags out of her frozen stupor.

'How dare you?' she breathes advancing, despite Woof's motioning for her to stay. Her gown drags across puddles of blood and she steps over corpses with little reaction, too blinded by her fury. 'How dare you-He-We trusted you.'

Her words appear to fall on deaf ears, and her friend, the boy she used to play in the warm waters on the Southern Islands, before they were burnt, pillaged and run to ruins by the Meir and she was forced to take comfort in Panem, but her friend no longer for he is bathed in blood of her husband and holds her husband's head by his golden hair like it is a miraculous prize and not the head of the man he swore loyalty to, on his knees in this very room.

'Coriolanus!' She roars, ferocious like the sea that she loves, 'Answer your Queen!'

Her words echo and it feels like in the silence that answers her, her anger magnifies.

Slowly, delicately like a creature from a nightmare she cannot wake up, Coriolanus turns his head to face her and his expression though cordial and offputtingly regal in this situation, feels like ice water to her face and though she stands by a pyre she feels frozen.

'You are no Queen.' Coriolanus says simply and she wills herself not to flinch with each word he says; he drops her husband body and she cannot bring her eyes to watch her love's body roll down the many stairs to join his men already slain. Instead she watches Coriolanus walk like a predator, assured of his victory walk down the many stairs to face her. 'We are friends, and so out of respect for that friendship I will tell you this only once: Leave Panem Mags. Take your son and never come back.'

She wants to spit in her face, wants a blade to stab him and scream as she drains him of his blood.

She trusted him, he trusted him. How could he betray friendship for a cold throne in an empty room? Is power that alluring a man would kill his leader and friend?

She spends no time in trying to reason Coriolanus's methods; instead she takes her flight, satin skirt snapping as she turns and runs.

She tracks blood through out the palace, to her chambers where she had been before the hall had been taken. She is breathing deeply, feeling a burn in her lungs and soreness throughout her muscles as she pushes curtains of lace and silk to get to her child, her son with her love's green eyes.

Holding her child to her breast, she flees.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **My tumblr is seevikifangirl, thank you for reading, and for all the alerts and reviews (if I get any).


	2. Act i Scene i

**disclaimer**: disclaimed.

**dedication**: Liana for beta-ing this, and WhiskeySnarker for bringing the smut element into it.  
><strong>notes<strong>: Thank you all so much for the support and favourties and reviews and all of the alerts and such. I've replied to them all here~

I hope you enjoy!

Also again this is rate M for mature, because of graphic depictions of violence, sex and uncomfortable subject matter.

**title**: A Crown of Roses

**summary**: A revolution is not a bed of roses.

_(I never wanted to be king, but oh-oh can you hear the people sing?)_

**chapter:** 2/25 (Act 1 Scene 1)

* * *

><p><p>

At sixteen Lady Katniss Everdeen is long overdue to be wed. The reason why she had been passed over since her first bleeding, three years ago was due to her dubious parentage. Lady Violet Undersea is the cherished younger sister of Lord Undersea of the North and she was engaged to Lord Mellark of the East; however she had fallen in love with her brother's squire, a man named Everdeen and had fled from Twelfth eighteen years ago to marry Everdeen.

Everdeen was killed in a Squamish by Mellark's men, bad blood still lined the family rumoured to be the cause of Lord Mellark's unhappy marriage, three years prior and Violet Everdeen was forced to return to her brother's estate.

Her brother kindly took her, and her two daughters Katniss and Primrose, but his sister could not go unpunished. The proud and kind Lady Violet Undersea had given up her name and with that her title and privilege. She bore the name Everdeen, and lost her status.

The tension in the north was strong, with both Lord Undersea and Violet Everdeen feeling insulted.

Katniss's marriage prospect were limited due to her non noble father, and while one could say that perhaps Lord Undersea was blocking perspective marriages of Katniss to favour his own daughter, Lady Madge Undersea, there is no proof.

The cousins are the same age, though Katniss is as dark as Madge is fair, and the differences only get strong from there. Their tutors complain heartily about how Katniss never cares for her lessons, augmentative over small details, and still unable to come to terms with the loss of freedom coming to Twelfth had given her.

She was thankful that there was a roof over her sister and mother's head made of stone, rather than thatched hay as the likelihood the western quarters burning down due to a stray candle was smaller. She was happy that Primrose, at twelve would never have to go wanting for food, like she had for close to six months while their mother was bedridden with grief.

She was thankful for the new clothes of heavy wool that would keep Prim from freezing.

She was thankful to her uncle for taking them in, when it would have been well within his right to turn them aside. But as the same time she was furious.

Coming to Twelve meant long dresses with petticoats instead of lighter dresses, and her access to the forest was limited to only one stroll with an escort in the form of Gale Hawthorne, who is currently training to be a knight under Haymitch of the North and was spending the winter months in Twelfth while Haymitch was in the Capitol with King Coriolanus.

Madge is content with her life, comparing her cousin to a bird broken in the wild, and brought inside to heal. The bird is disorientated and fragile, and the fear of the comforting unknown causes the bird to hurt itself more. The point of the metaphor, Madge explained, was that Katniss had yet to relax and understand that her father is not going to turn them out, that Katniss, her sister and mother are safe here.

There is a retort on the tip of tongue that she had to swallow like a bitter pill, pushing it down to the pits of her stomach where it soured and spread through her body like a poison. Madge was a caged bird, she wanted to argue, one who had never been outside of the gilded cage and couldn't see the cruelty her father possessed.

Katniss's mother is still in full mourning clothes, Violet Everdeen was not permitted to wear the white her status would have let her; instead her mother was humiliated in black linens that washed her out and the veil that hid her face.

If Violet Everdeen had ever considered the possibility of remarriage, it would have been denied as Lord Undersea would never let his sister remarry. The shame of marrying underneath her status, and the crime of running away was not forgotten.

Lord Undersea was never cruel to his sister, but he was subtle and snubbed her.

Katniss had taken to stealing away from lessons to find Gale Hawthorne her only friend practising his skill with knives and swords, awaiting his master who held erratic hours.

Sir Haymitch Abernathy was only thirteen when the ten year war was ended forty years ago, when King Odair was killed and his wife and child fled Panem. He represents the North still, though his surely disposition and his preference for strong drink had sullied the North's favour to King Coriolanus, and trade has been slow for the past few winters.

'How were lessons Catnip?' The tall dark haired squire says, a small smile gracing his face as he weighs a small dagger in the palm of his hand, trying to find the proper balance.

Gale is in a particularly good mood since Haymitch's departure a fort week prior, as Haymitch had hinted over top his prized liquor that a dubbing maybe soon, something at one score and eight, he was desperate to receive.

He had grumbled for the past year about how his drunken master seemed to be dragging his heels, and perhaps he should leave for The Wall, where he would be appreciated.

The Wall were where disgraced knights, those who failed to protect their Lords went. It was simply put, a ten metre high wall, surrounding Panem keeping outsiders away and everyone safe. The only breach in The Wall is the harbour where the Southern Islands are located, and fresh seafood (an expensive delicacy, only reserved for weddings and times of great celebration) is harvested.

'Dull.' Katniss grimaces, hoisting herself on the bottom rung of the wooden fence to be better to properly snatch the slim silver dagger out of his open palm.

It's ornate, one for decoration rather than use, with a wolf engraved in the ivory handle. He had told her once that this was his prized possession. It had belonged to his father, who had died the year before Gale was about to enter his pageship under his father.

He was surprised when Haymitch had taken him, though that meant he had to travel several days from his family. He had told Katniss his brothers Rory and Vick were apprenticing at a blacksmith and had joined the church respectively. He rarely spoke of his mother and his sister.

'Learning how to run a household doesn't suit your interest?' Gale mocks, knowing full well of Katniss's hatred of her confinement. 'You'll make a fine lady for someone one day.'

Katniss laughs, 'I don't think I'd ever want to be married.'

The sentence runs Gale cold, and Katniss doesn't notice how his ears turn red around the edges.

'You'll change your mind.' Gale promises, taking the small dagger back and placing it carefully into its holster.

Katniss shakes her head, but does not say anything.

* * *

><p>She slides her tongue around his member, tasting the saltiness of skin, while his large hand scarred from multiple battles weaves itself through her dark hair, trying to hold her in place as she takes him further in his moment.<p>

She never takes her eyes off his lined face. His eyes are closed and his head thrown back in ecstasy as he tries not to let her name slip from his lips. They must be quiet; they are in a public place only hidden by a small shrub.

Her dress is pooling at her waist, her breasts bare and have teeth marks from where he nipped and suckled her before she fell to her knees.

'Jesus fuck.' He groans, and she swirls her tongue around the tip, feeling the hot liquid starting to come from his tip. She clasps the part of his shaft she cannot take in his mouth and rubs while still sucking him.

He cums with a strangle cry of _'ChristfuckJo'_ and his hand tightens in her hair, pulling so it hurts and the moisture between her thighs feels thicker, and she just wants him to take her now.

She swallows obediently, letting him go and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand delicately, Johanna Mason, lady's maid to Cashmere, the King's mistress leans back on her hunches, all while watching Sir Haymitch Abernathy catch his breathe.

'I trust it was satisfactory?' She asks, watching as he rights himself.

Haymitch snorts, 'Yeah it sure as fuck was.'

She smirks, and is about to ask him to return the favour when there are footfalls on pavement and the expression on Haymitch's lined face is one of a rabbit caught in a snare.

He springs away from her, like she's nothing but a cheap whore, worried that it would be someone who would tell his wife, Effie.

The footsteps pass without incident, but any chance of Haymitch taking her are gone, stolen by his reprieve. The expression of shameful guilt is one she is familiar with etched on his face.

His marriage to Lady Effie Trinket, the only daughter of a family of wealthy merchants heavily favoured by the King was arranged, and she's heard rumours that Haymitch's first love was killed because of the arranged marriage.

Lady Effie is the type of person everyone knows about, by reputation alone if not her outlandish looks. Johanna has never seen Lady Effie's true hair as she is always wearing large wigs of pastels colours better suited for flowers than for hair. She is always in the latest fashion, and has recently started wearing her dresses so tight, that her waist is something Johanna can measure in one and a half palms. She is always fussy around court, in her nasally voice trilling about decorum and the latest rumours.

She has never understood how someone could assume the two would make a good match; they couldn't be any more different. Effie thought of trivial things, never having a serious thought in her head, focusing more on her image and her position in court, and as the wife to one of the four Knights of Panem, the title given to each chosen champion of the four Lordships, she was very high up.

Haymitch on the other hand, didn't give a rat's ass about decorum, image or his position in court. He preferred to avoid any and all official events, and when she did see him there, it was often with a full cup of liquor in his hands.

Jokes and snide remarks went right over Effie's wigged head, while Haymitch spoke in dry wit like it was his mother tongue.

It isn't a happy union, for they have been married for almost two score and have yet to produce any children. Haymitch had said an old injury during the Ten Year War caused him to be barren, though he never cums inside her, preferring to empty himself on her chest.

It's been two years since Haymitch tracked her down, and kissed her messily.

He spends most of his time with his Squire Gale Hawthorn, a dark boy who seems incapable of smiling, whom she's only seen in passing, in between the Capitol and the North, where he is the Champion of Lord Undersee.

He spends the winter months in the Capitol, unable to travel due to the thick snow, and due to Effie insistence that they do not spend the winter cut off from all civility and society. From what she has heard Effie is rather bored and a horror when she has to go to Twelfth.

She hates those six months of the year, she never sees Haymitch and she wonders if he thinks of her at all. He never sends her a letter or gives her a trinket to remember him by.

He never asks her if there are any suitors or anyone else who shares her bed, and if it weren't for the desperation in his eyes when he buries himself in her hips and the messy way he kisses her, like she is air and he cannot breathe without her, she would assume he did not care for her.

'We can go to my chamber.' She says in a undertone, wanting to erase all trace of guilt from his face. He didn't love Effie, for a man in love didn't do what they did.

'Nah.' Haymitch says, running a hand through his hair, 'Effie'll be looking for me.'

He doesn't bid her goodbye, as his boots crunch the light snow.

Johanna has never thought of herself as a stupid girl, she managed to get herself out of her small village and be taken on as a ladies maid, despite have no previous training or connection.

But then again, Lady Cashmere was only eight years older than Johanna herself, and had been desperate for someone her own age, her brother had been knighted and scent with Sir Brutus on errands by the King.

But in this moment, his taste still on her tongue, and her knees wet from the snow she wonders if she is stupid.

For she has fallen in love with a married man, and there is no way he would leave his wife for her.

* * *

><p>'The snow is worse here.' Gale says, as he and Katniss make tracks around the woods. He is checking his snares, while she is practising her archery.<p>

Lord Undersee never allowed Katniss to learn any sort of weaponry, and this was expressly forbidden. However her mother came to him discreetly and said if he is the one keeping her daughter safe in the woods, she should learn something to defend herself with.

He chose archery, as it dealt more with aiming than with strength, and he was pleasantly surprised at how quickly she took to it.

It took four months of daily walks in the woods, in which he had to assure Lord Undersee and his master that he had no intentions whatsoever with Katniss.

Lord Undersee had made it very clear that if he touched his niece he would have no place at Twelve.

At the time, he had been fourteen and had no interest in the quiet girl with tan skin from exposure to the elements, and it was an easy promise. But the years past, and womanhood had crept up on Katniss, and she wore it wear.

Her skin would never be the fashionable pale like woman of noble birth, like her cousin. It had been marred by the wind, and the months she strived to care for her family before her mother woke from her daze of grief long enough to return to her family home.

He preferred the skin in her colour; it made her more attractive in his eyes. He never wanted a woman who needed to be cared for, he had enough on his plate with three younger siblings and a mother whom he sends ninety-five percent of his small wages.

He cannot afford a wife, though from Haymitch's pointed comments, he is expecting Gale to take if not a wife, than at least a lover soon.

If he was allowed to, he thinks he would like to marry Katniss.

'Compared to where?' Katniss says, her bow drawn and her gaze strong on a fat blue jay perched on a tree branch, paying them no mind.

'The Capitol.' He says watching her slender fingers release and the coil of her arm as the arrow hits its target and the bird falls from the tree with a soft thump, as it hits the snow.

The snow is thigh deep on Gale, and a bit past Katniss's knees. He offers her a hand to help her maneuver through the snow, but she ignores it preferring to struggle and get her coyote lined cape damp from the snow than show a bit of weakness.

Katniss has incredible pride, fitting for someone of her stature, but it does not help her; instead her pride and refusal to accept help handicapped her, especially when she lost her footing and fell backwards in the snow.

He tries to hide his laugh, but fails when a boyish smirk graces his serious features. 'Need help Catnip?'

'No.' She grumbles, the shock of falling dissipating off her face like smoke and she works to get herself out of the snow. He says nothing, but lets her push past him snow still clinging off of her back in small clumps that make an interesting design. Katniss claims her prize, with a look of triumph happiness and some sadness.

He remembered her telling him, years ago that her father hunted birds, particularly mockingjays which were rare to almost the point of extinction in the North and that her mother would bake great pies. Katniss voice always became wishful at those moments, when she described her childhood.

It was one near poverty, no one wanted a knight who broke his vows and ran off with his Lady, so her father had become a mercenary taking small jobs, and somehow getting in between a land dispute from the Mellarks and a local Seigneur.

But before then, it had been a happy home full of food and music.

'We should head back,' he murmurs looking at the darkening sky. 'We've been out for almost two hours.'

Katniss snorts, 'Like they care. Madge is just doing some embroidery with Prim.'

'And you don't want to join in?'

The glare she gives him, makes him smile and the trudge back following their footsteps to the armoury where her bow is carefully stored in the bottom of his personal chest, is silent.

They are discussing the possibility of venison for dinner as there have been whispers all day that Thom had come back from a hunting trip with a stag, there are interrupted from the sounds of silk slippers running down carpet floor before stopping suddenly slowly to a walk.

When Gale looks, he finds Lady Madge Undersee a tad breathless beaming behind them.

'Cousin!' Madge exclaims, smiling prettily. He frowns.

Madge Undersee is the same age as Katniss, and that is where any similarities they have end. Madge is slender, but not in a way that speaks of a lack of food which still ghosts Katniss's features. Madge's hair is a pretty blonde that is pinned up in the most fashionable way, with a few curls falling out from what he presumes was a great race to find them. Her eyes are a clear blue, and he's confused to the darkening of her expression for the briefest of moments when her blue eyes flicker to meet his grey ones.

'Yes?'

'Lord Mellark and his sons are coming in a fort week!' Madge says, excitedly reaching out for Katniss's hands and lacing them together as she pulls Katniss down the corridor, leaving Gale to fall behind the cousins. 'Father says there's to be a match! A _match _Katniss!'

He has long heard of Katniss's complaints about how Madge complains during the embroidery circle she can't avoid how her father has yet to secure a marriage.

In Gale's opinion, Madge's great discomfort of being unwed is something stupid. There is much more to life than being married and he could not at all possibly fathom why she was looking forward to it. He could understand why Lord Undersee is so hesitant to marry his only child out, his wife had died three years earlier, by an illness and he had refused to ever take a second wife, or even a mistress.

This meant that Madge is the man's only heir, and as such the man she marries will inherit the Lordship of the North, and it is not something to be taken lightly.

'Congratulations.' Katniss says dryly, quite obviously not caring or seeing the importance. If Lord Undersee was particular about who his daughter could marry, it seemed like he rejected any and every offer for Katniss as well.

At first he assumed it was due to familiar concern, but he is now of the particular opinion that it is spite against his sister's marriage.

'Oh I know! Lord Peeta is the one, 'Madge continues, 'his brothers are already married. Oh it's thrilling! Father has commissioned new dresses for us all! '

'A new dress?' He can't stop himself, and he takes a pervert pleasure in the smile that falls off her face as she turns to face him, her arm still looped around her cousin, and her pale skin blushing red in slight anger. 'Because of company.'

'Yes.' She says, making it sound more like a hiss in a polite voice. 'If I'm meeting my future family I want to look pretty.'

'You want to look pretty?' His eyebrows are raised and there's a look of annoyance on Katniss's face that he ignores. 'You don't want them to care about your personality?'

'You can grow to love someone's personality.' Madge huffs, blue eyes dancing with anger, though the rest of her features are schooled into polite disinterest. 'But you can't change how one looks.'

He opens his mouth to retort, but Madge cuts him off.

'Good day Esquire Hawthorne.' She says firmly, before turning with a swish of her skirt and taking Katniss with her.


End file.
